


A Sweet and Tender (Marvelish) Romance

by auntieomega



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Avenger Loki, Belly Rubs, Canon Atheism, Christmas Party, Cussing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Christmas, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Skating, Loki Feels, M/M, Male Slash, Men Crying, Paganism, Pets, Sauna Snuggles, Sick Loki, Wedding Planning, Yuletide, Zen Bruce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-04-14 17:25:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4573176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auntieomega/pseuds/auntieomega
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A shy scientist with anger management issues and a temperamental trickster god discover how to heal each other's emotional scars. Set after Avengers 1 and becomes AU.</p>
<p>These are versions of my "A Marvelish Romance" stories without the sex scenes.  I've also edited much of the strong language, but there is still some cussing and an f-bomb once in a while.</p>
<p>I'm doing this because some readers have found the sex scenes in the original series objectionable and asked for a cleaned-up version.</p>
<p>*Each chapter will be a self-contained story.  I'll add chapters as I get them edited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loki Gets What He Needs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RenneMichaels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenneMichaels/gifts).



> When Loki accepts a deal to trade his prison sentence in Asgard for rehabilitation, he discovers the strongest prisons are the ones we create ourselves.

Loki touched the window pane tentatively. It seemed to be nothing but glass. He drew himself a little straighter and frowned as Bruce entered the room. Bruce smiled at him. “You can relax now, Thor’s gone.”

Loki did not relax, although the news did cheer him somewhat. Still, his predicament remained the same. He had already begun to tire of his confinement in Asgard when Thor came to him, saying one of the Avengers had offered to try to rehabilitate him. The one that could turn into the giant green beast. The thought of rehabilitation brought a smirk to his lips, but anything was preferable to solitary confinement. Or so he had thought. Now, looking around his new cell, he wasn’t so sure.

“That bad, huh?” Bruce laughed. “I’m sorry. Usually, this is my office. I know the futon is a little depressing, but that’s the closest thing I have to a spare bed right now.”

Loki ignored him. This was some sort of trick. He checked the walls for wards or force fields and found—nothing. Weary of games, he turned to the scientist and said, “You have placed me in a cell with inadequate security. Why?”

“It’s not a cell. It’s just a room in my apartment. Feel free to stalk strangely about the rest of the apartment and poke things if that helps you adapt.”

“You’re saying I could escape out that window right now?”

“You could. It wouldn’t be a fun landing. But, in theory, yes.” He smiled and sat on the futon. “In order for you to prove you’re trustworthy, I have to trust you first.”

Loki bristled. “You’ll find underestimating me to be a grave mistake. One you’ll not live long to regret.”

“Technically, I don’t think I’m underestimating you. But if you mean I’m underestimating your desire to escape, I think you’re wrong.” Bruce set the linens he had been holding beside him on the futon. “I think you’ll stay here because part of you wants this. I also think you’ll stay because the rest of you knows the only way you’ll make it on the outside is by summoning some sad army of hairdressers or dachshunds or something, and then the Avengers will find you, and Thor will drag you back to Asgard by the scruff of your neck. You’ll be right back where you were, but your sentence will be doubled.”

A small, sick feeling twisted through Loki’s stomach. He wanted to reply, but found he could not. Instead he just stood there, staring, trying to look menacing to a man who didn’t seem menaced by him. And then Loki’s attention focused on the scientist’s eyes. What he saw there surprised him more than the lax security.

Throughout Loki’s life people had ignored him or looked at him with disdain. People tolerated him; people feared him; people hated him. No one had ever looked at him with such sincerity, with such reverence. Some small, shameful voice whispered from his depths, I’ll stay as long as he continues to look at me like that.

“Maybe you’ll stay as a favor to me,” said Bruce. “I’ve been fascinated by you from the moment I first saw you. The others think I’m crazy, your brother included, but I see something when I look into your eyes. Something accessible, something fragile and good. Stay so we can prove the others wrong. Stay so we can hand Thor his ass.”

Loki laughed weakly, backed into the desk, and sat on top of it. Something fragile and good… What a strange thing to say? His head almost spun. “I do like the idea of…handing Thor his ass.”

A beeping noise issued from somewhere else in the apartment. Bruce leapt up. “My muffins are ready. Do you like blueberries?”

***

He had been with Bruce almost two weeks when he decided to escape. He waited until Bruce had left for work, then opened the door and walked to the elevator. It was a small act, but it thrilled him. He was free. In moments, he was stepping onto the sidewalk and into a world of damp asphalt, great buildings, loud cars, and bustling people. The odors of exhaust and urine enveloped him.

His long black coat was too heavy for the late spring day. Somehow, it had seemed cooler in the apartment. He contemplated taking it off and carrying it as he walked to the end of the block.

There, he stopped, staring at the intersection. People swirled around him. He couldn’t move. Something held him in its grasp, and all he could do was stand, frozen, and breathe. Finally, he stepped away, and paused against a building. He had no allies here. This world was populated with nothing but strangers and enemies.

So he would forge new alliances; he had in the past, but--- Bruce claimed to be on his side. Surely that was a fiction. ‘Something fragile and good.’ That was insulting. And yet, when he had said it, Bruce had looked at him with some emotion Loki couldn’t quite place, something quiet and forgiving—like morning sunlight. Something that had shaken him to his core.

Loki moved off the wall to begin his journey anew, but then he turned around. He wasn’t returning to the apartment out of fear or anxiety. No. He was returning to plot and prepare a remarkable, brilliant escape befitting a prince of Asgard…. And Bruce had made cranberry orange muffins with oat bran and whole wheat, and in half an hour _Project Runway_ came on. There was a _Hoarders_ marathon afterward, and if that became boring, Netflix was filled with a million wonders.

***

“Loki. What did you do to my miniature zen garden?”

Loki recognized the strained quality in Bruce’s voice. It was the same way he had sounded when Loki cut all of the flowers off the orchids in the window and put them in a vase to brighten up the breakfast bar. The same way as when Loki had used Bruce’s razor to tidy his pubic hair. It would probably be the same voice he would use if he knew Loki had peed on his toothbrush.

Loki settled onto a barstool at the breakfast bar and pointed to the thing at its center. “You mean this pitiful tray of rocks and sand?”

“Yes.”

“I saw that you were drawing designs in the sand, so I improved it. And I rearranged those rocks.”

Bruce flicked a tiny rake at him. “You’re supposed to make ripples with this.”

“My design is superior to ripples.”

Leaning closer to inspect the sand, Bruce said, “I can’t tell what that’s supposed to be.”

“It’s my name,” said Loki. “In runes. And I did it with my glorious finger, so that’s far better than a rake.”

Bruce looked at him strangely and took the tray into his bedroom.

***

Loki allowed himself to slip into a routine. Mornings began early and started with a series of stretching movements called yoga. The most exciting part of that was watching Bruce. He was stronger and more flexible than Loki would have thought. It was during yoga that Loki first wondered what sex with Bruce would be like. As soon as he thought that, he wondered if Bruce wanted to have sex with him. From that moment on, he tried to make all of his downward dogs as seductive as possible. Bruce didn’t seem to notice. Loki thought he was the most unobservant gay scientist ever.

Yoga was followed by meditation, which involved trying to clear one’s mind and find one’s center. At this, Loki excelled, because it was very like the grounding one did before magic.

Sometimes however, he just thought about sex. After that came breakfast, which consisted of brewing coffee and doing various things with tofu and different bread products. Sometimes they had horse meal called cereal with soy milk and fruit. Other times they had drinks called smoothies, which Loki enjoyed a great deal.

When Bruce couldn’t work from home, Loki was left with the television to learn idioms and American culture, and this was the highlight of his day. The television was a rectangular gazing sphere, full of light and magic and energy. He would have watched it constantly, without food or drink, if Bruce had let him. Bruce provided him with books as well, but they didn’t draw him in the way the TV did.

The DVR stored shows that Bruce recorded for him. Most of these were boring. Loki soon learned how to record shows himself and recorded all kinds of wonderful things.

Evenings began with weightlifting, alternating showers, then elaborate meal preparation, dining, talking, and bed. If Bruce was tired, they watched a documentary or a movie. Loki preferred the movies, but this night Bruce insisted on a documentary. “ _Baraka_ ,” Loki frowned. “It’s political?” He hated American politics. It was so loud and petty. All of the noise could easily be solved by someone simply taking over the country. Someone smart and sexy with beautiful blue green eyes and a breathtaking smile….

“No, it’s about human life,” Bruce told him.

Loki didn’t feel up to feigning interest. He sighed at his popcorn and contemplated throwing some at Bruce. Stupid Bruce. Why hadn’t they had sex yet? Loki knew he was irresistible. They should have screwed each other silly by now. Was it possible that Bruce found him unattractive? That couldn’t be right. Loki was soooo attractive. Anyone would want him. Anyone but stupid Bruce. Obviously, something was wrong with him.

“They have medicine for ED.”

“What?”

“If you have ED,” said Loki, munching popcorn. “I know you don’t like to watch commercials, so I thought you might have missed it.”

Bruce laughed. “I most certainly do NOT have ED. But thank you for your concern.”  
“What about low testosterone? They—”

“Loki, I’m fine. What’s with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me.” Sulking, he ate his popcorn and watched stupid Bruce’s stupid documentary. Despite his resistance to it, Loki soon found himself absorbed in it. There were no words—just music, just people from different cultures chanting, dancing, children picking through hills of garbage to haunting music, visuals beautiful and horrible. The imagery and music flooded his senses and pulled from him feelings he couldn’t name. The air in his lungs became heavy and damp. He pulled his knees to his chest, feeling the need to huddle. When it was over, his tears threatened to break free. He hid his face behind his knees.

“Loki?” Bruce touched his shoulder gently. “Loki, don’t be embarrassed. I’m touched every time I see this. I was hoping you would be moved by it, too.”

“Something’s wrong with me,” he said raggedly. “Nothing’s wrong with you, so something’s wrong with me. I’ve felt it before now, but—” He managed to stop himself before he said anything more appalling.

Bruce’s hand rubbed up and down Loki’s arm. “Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re exactly who you’re supposed to be at this place in time. Some of your actions might be questionable, but there’s nothing wrong with you, Loki.”

Loki trembled with a sense of mystified awe and withdrew from the touch he had craved only moments before. He regarded the scientist as he might the green beast, leaving the couch while keeping his gaze fixed and wary. Licking his lips, he retreated to his room.

***

And then they began going out. They started with Central Park. After that, every weekend they went somewhere---the Museum of Modern Art, the New York Botanical Garden, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the New York Aquarium, bars, restaurants, everywhere. They walked; they took the rail; they took the subway; they took cabs. And they walked. And walked. And walked.

Loki loved every minute of it. He forgot he was supposed to be working on a brilliant plan to escape. He even forgot to look for ways to conquer the city. Instead, the city claimed his heart. No matter how much he enjoyed their outings, however, he still couldn’t understand Bruce’s distance. Loki’s yearnings had edged somewhere uncomfortably beyond sex, and he was unable to make sense of them. Worse, the intensity of his desire rendered him mute. If he confessed anything now and was rejected…. The possibility was too terrible to contemplate.

His need began to fester, and when the opportunity to dig at Bruce presented itself, he couldn’t help but take it.

One hot summer Saturday, while he and Bruce were out, Loki decided he wanted to try one of the long meat things a man was selling out of a little cart. He was hungry, but he also liked the idea that this might upset Bruce. “I’m sick of all of your vegetarian rubbish. I want one of those, whatever those are.” He pointed to the vendor’s cart.

“I’m fine with getting you some meat. But why don’t we get you some good meat. A steak or something? Hotdogs are made from vaginas and floor scrapings.”

Bruce’s disapproval of hotdogs made Loki want one more. “I don’t want a steak. I WANT a hotdog.”

“Loki. Some of these street vendors are fine, but it’s really better to get something from a restaurant—”

“I WANT a hotdog!”

“What the fuck, Loki? Fine. Order.”

Victorious, Loki strode to the cart. “I want a hotdog. With extra vaginas and floor scrapings.”

Bruce looked vaguely mortified as he paid the vendor. Loki couldn’t have been happier. When he had his hotdog, he kept trying to get in Bruce’s face, hoping to make him squirm.

“Stop playing with it and eat it,” Bruce said in a quiet, firm tone.

Loki glared at him and stuffed the rest of the hotdog in his mouth. “I’m still hungry. I want another one.” A phrase from a recent conversation flashed in his mind. “I’m following my bliss.” 

“Hotdogs are not bliss. Hotdogs are disgusting.” Bruce sighed, glancing at the vendor over his shoulder. “And these carts aren’t always safe. You’re taking a risk—”

“I’m adventurous. You’re boring. Boring Bruce Boring Banner.”

Bruce contemplated him for a minute, then handed him some cash. “Whatever makes you happy.”

***

They were on either end of the couch watching a documentary called _Koyaanisqaatsi_ when the uncomfortable pressure Loki had been feeling in his stomach turned into an actual ache. A sharp, almost crushing ache. He tried to act casual as he laced his arms across his stomach, but the movement drew Bruce’s attention.

“Is your stomach hurting?”

“Some.” A sharp pain stole his breath.

“Yeah. You’ve been really quiet for a while.” He stood and walked away.

Loki only thought about Bruce for a second. The pain in his stomach obliterated all other thoughts. It unfolded within him like a flower made of glass shards.

Bruce returned with a small, lined trash can and sat it next to Loki’s legs. Loki flashed the scientist a disgruntled look. “And how is that supposed to help exactly?”

“If you have what I think you do, you’re going to need it.” He knelt before Loki. “Let me examine you so I can make sure this isn’t something else.” With a grimace and a measure of reluctance, Loki allowed it. Bruce’s hands moved all over Loki’s aching belly. “Lie flat,” he said gently, easing Loki into the position. After carefully palpitating Loki’s abdomen, Bruce pressed and quickly released on the right side of Loki’s belly. He heaved a sigh, then began rubbing Loki’s stomach in gentle circles.

“You’re not a healer! You’ve done nothing to remedy this. It still hurts,” Loki admonished him.

“I’m sure it does.” There was no mocking edge to Bruce’s tone. Instead, it was hung with sympathy and a trace of sadness. “I was just making sure your appendix was okay.”

Bruce’s fingers brushed Loki’s side and it occurred to him that while they had been talking, Bruce had been rubbing his stomach. The idea filled Loki with a flutter of pleasure, but he was in too much pain to truly enjoy it. “Do you have any medicine?” he asked.

“No. Unfortunately food poisoning needs to run its course. It’s best to let your body eliminate the toxins naturally.”

“Food poisoning? You let me be poisoned?”

“It could have happened anywhere, but those hotdogs seem the most likely culprit.”

Bruce’s betrayal hurt Loki as much as the stomach ache. “You never said anything about poison.”

“I should have been clearer.”

“You did this to me.” Tears stung Loki’s eyes. He pushed Bruce’s hand away and sat up, cringing at the stabbing pain the movement caused. “You said you were on my side. But you let this happen.”

“You wanted what you wanted, and you weren’t listening to me. And I didn’t know for certain that the hotdogs were tainted.” He crept up on the couch beside Loki. “I’m so, so sorry that you feel betrayed. And I’m very sorry this happened to you. Let me rub your stomach. Let me help you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Loki relented. He closed his eyes, but Bruce’s hand soothed away only a little of the pain. And then a wave of nausea rippled through him. He sat up straighter.

“Oh.”

He vomited into the garbage can Bruce held in front of him. And then he was clutching its rim tightly while Bruce held his hair back. They repeated this until Loki was completely exhausted and quite certain he had thrown up not only everything he had eaten that day but also every organ he owned and all of his toenails.

Loki fell back onto the couch in a miserable heap. Bruce abandoned him to do something in the kitchen. When Bruce returned, he handed Loki a cup of something warm and placed an ice pack against his stomach. “That’s chamomile tea. It’s soothing,” he said.

Loki took an experimental sip. “It’s not poisoned, is it?”

Bruce sighed and stroked Loki’s temple with his knuckles. “Loki, I would never intentionally hurt you. I…like you so much. I love going places with you. You cast a whole new light on things I’ve seen for years. Like the buskers. I never really noticed them. But you were so enchanted with them. Wanting to talk to them. Giving them all of my money. You make everything seem somehow more intense, more real.” He snorted. “You’re not even listening to me are you?”

“Blah, blah, blah, buskers.” Loki found it difficult to concentrate on Bruce’s nonsense with his stomach achily gurgling and nausea clinging to every inch of his skin. However, when Bruce began to withdraw, Loki caught his hand. He drug Bruce’s fingers back to his forehead. “Keep doing that.” He added, “Please,” remembering how much Bruce liked the word. He leaned his head against Bruce’s shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long time. The fingers caressing his face and fondling his hair felt so soothing and wonderful that he began drifting into sleep, his stomach waking him periodically with a sharp pain. And then a mass of cramps in his lower abdomen brought him fully awake. He shuddered. “F—.” He sprang up and dashed for the toilet.

Nothing but soup squirted out of his ass. A hideous, unbelievable amount of noxious soup. The foulness of it sickened him. He began to vomit, but the garbage can was out of his reach, and he couldn’t leave the toilet. He covered his mouth to hold it in, but it came anyway. Violently.

Cringing on the toilet, he spewed from each end.

And then the garbage can magically appeared in front of him. With Bruce’s hand attached. The other hand twisted in his hair. “GET OUT!” Loki cried. “GET—” He retched again. More soup followed. He had never felt so humiliated.

“It’s okay,” Bruce said in an annoyingly soothing voice. “I’ve treated leprosy and Guinea worms. All kinds of things. This doesn’t bother me.”

“It bothers me.” Loki was almost in tears. “Thank you for the garbage can. Now, please leave me alone.”

Bruce retreated. “Don’t worry about this.” He pointed to the puddle of vomit on the tile. “I’ll take care of it after you’re finished.”

Once Loki was done with the bathroom, he curled into the corner of the couch and hid his face in its arm. He couldn’t make eye contact with Bruce. He never wanted to see the man again.

Fortunately, Bruce disappeared to clean the bathroom. Unfortunately, he returned some time later. He thrust a glass in the part of Loki’s face not mushed into the couch. “You need to drink some water.”

“I hate you,” Loki told him weakly.

“I’m sorry. Drink the water.”

Loki didn’t want to obey, but for some reason, he did. He could only manage a few sips, however, before he hung his head and began to cry. “I so hate you.”

“I know,” said Bruce, sitting on the couch. “Come rest against me, and I’ll rub your stomach.”

Loki glowered at him for a moment, then shifted over to lay his head on Bruce’s shoulder.

“Breathe a word of this to anyone, and I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

Loki expected him to bristle and brag about his capabilities. Instead, Bruce continued the gentle rubbing and said softly, “Poor Loki.” Although this could have sounded mocking or condescending, it didn’t. It was the most beautiful phrase Loki had ever heard. There was so much love in it, so much kindness. It was an audible hug.

Bruce asked him if he wanted to watch TV. Loki refused. Bruce asked if Loki wanted to read. Loki refused. Much to Loki’s dismay, Bruce left. He soon returned, however, with a thin, battered book. “What’s that?” Loki asked.

“ _The Happy Prince and Other Tales_ , by Oscar Wilde.”

“It looks like shit.”

“I’ve had it since I was a kid.”

Loki sniffed at him. “You’re a level one hoarder.”

“I hate that you’re watching so much TV. My apartment is clean and organized. I have a few old things, but that doesn’t make me a hoarder.”

“That’s what hoarders say.”

Bruce drew a long, deep breath. “I can’t do anything else to make you feel better, so I’m going to read to you.”

Loki had no problem with that, so he snuggled a little closer and listened quietly as Bruce read _The Happy Prince_. The title suggested it was a happy story, but it was distressingly sad. “The swallow should have flown away,” he told Bruce. He now had his head in Bruce’s lap.

“But it loved the statue of the prince, so it stayed to help him. The story is about love and sacrifice and trying to end human suffering. It’s a beautiful fable.”

“I hated the ending.”

“I hated the ending.”

“But they go to heaven.” He sat the book down and looked at Loki. “You’re nowhere near falling asleep, are you?”

“No… Maybe you could sing to me?”

“What?”

Loki found his astonishment insulting. “I hear you in the shower all the time. You have a nice voice.”

“You can hear me?” Bruce asked sheepishly.

“Our neighbors probably hear you.”

Bruce looked at him with a strange, touched expression. “Our neighbors….”

“So? Sing something.”

“I don’t know.”

“Sing the whiskers on kittens song from _The Sound of Music_. ”  
“I think it’s called _My Favorite Things_. Loki— Never mind. I can never guess the things you’ll like.” He paused. “I don’t know the lyrics to that song.”

“I do,” said Loki. In a soft, clear voice he began. “Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens….”

Bruce joined in, but dropped out sometimes to follow Loki. In this way, they sang a somewhat ragged, subdued version of the song. “Now you need to sing that shower song that goes ‘See, the life I’ve had / Can make a good man bad.’”

“You should really be singing to me.”

Loki frowned at him. “I’m sick.”

“I think its _Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want,_ by the Smiths. Oh, Loki. A song about wanting.” Bruce sighed. “The root of all suffering is desire.”

“You’re the one singing it in the shower over and over.”

“It’s fun to sing.”

“Just sing it. Please.” Loki sighed happily when he began. Bruce sang in a voice barely above a whisper, his fingers stroking the path of Loki’s hairline as it circled his ear. Loki closed his eyes, his head filled with darkness and song.

***

Loki woke to morning sunlight. For a moment, he was surprised by his surroundings, but memory returned quickly. Bruce was asleep, leaning slightly off kilter. Loki still had his head in Bruce’s lap. Loki healed himself to banish his soreness and what was left of his illness. Then he nestled happily against Bruce. He burrowed his nose into Bruce’s pants, snuffing deeply. He smelled lavender laundry detergent and a lovely, clean scent that seemed to be Bruce himself.

Loki basked in the light and the warmth. His feelings were jumbled and unfamiliar, but they were pleasant all the same. Waking up with Bruce, touching Bruce, being touched by Bruce. All of it felt so right. This must be what normal people feel like, he thought; this is what it must feel like to be happy.

He wanted Bruce to wake up and share in the glory of his new-found rightness. He started by whispering his name, then quickly escalated to barking it while poking him. Bruce finally woke, scrubbing a hand across his face. Loki grinned at him. “You’re awake! Good morning! After yoga, can I help you make breakfast?”

Bruce stared at him blearily. “Skip yoga. Go take a shower, brush your teeth. Get yourself feeling normal.”

“You won’t need help?”

“You never help me. Why should today be any different?”

Somewhat crestfallen, Loki followed Bruce’s suggestions. And being clean did make him feel even better. He pounced on the bar stool where he usually sat and leaned over the breakfast bar.

“Are you making tofu scramble? Are you going to finish it with nutritional yeast? I love nutritional yeast!”

“I thought that would be a little advanced for your stomach.” Bruce placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of Loki.

Loki scowled at it. “I don’t like oatmeal.”

“Oatmeal is gentle. You need to take it easy today.”

“No, I don’t. I healed myself this morning. I’m great.”

Bruce, who had been busy at the stove, turned around to face him. “You can heal yourself?”

Loki preened. “I’m a sorcerer, remember? A highly skilled one at that. I can do all kinds of things.”

“Why didn’t you heal yourself last night?” A distinctly annoyed tone had slipped into Bruce’s usually calm voice.

And, motivated by a burst of unfettered affection, Loki revealed to Bruce, a mere mortal, a bit of information known to very few. It was a gift. A disarmament. A symbol of new-found trust. “I can heal myself, but I can’t if I’m in too much pain.”  
Bruce turned back to the stove with a snort. “That’s a tragic flaw, isn’t it? I mean, it doesn’t do you much good to be able to heal if you can’t do it when you’re actually hurt.”

“You can’t heal yourself at all!” Loki snarled at his back. “Your only power is turning into a giant green asshole with bad pants. You’re as much of a mindless douche as Thor and at least he has a magical hammer. You—”

“As much fun as this is, Loki, I have to go to work. And I have a headache from getting less than two hours of sleep. Can you tell me how inadequate you think I am later?” He turned off the stove and plated the food while Loki fumed. He turned suddenly. “Can you heal other people?”

“No—”

Bruce laughed, but it was devoid of mirth. “Of course, you can’t. I don’t know why I even bothered asking.”

“If I could, I—”

“That would probably involve having to think about other people.”

Ceramic clicked against the granite. Loki barely noticed it. He could focus only on Bruce’s evil, sleepy face. He trembled with rage and anguish. “Fuck you, Bruce. You don’t know half the shit you think you know. And you know absolutely nothing about me.” He could feel tears gathering in his eyes. His face burned as if aflame. “The way you treat me is inexcusable. I am not some wayward teenager. I am a god. At least in Asgard I would have had an honest sentence and an honest cell. Here— I’m only here so you can try to prove your bullshit ideas work. You don’t care about me at all.”

“Loki,” Bruce said gently. “I have to get ready for work. We’ll talk about this later.” He disappeared into his room.

Sniffling, Loki bowed his head, self conscious about his tears even though he was alone. The bowl of oatmeal had been replaced by a plate of tofu scramble sprinkled liberally with nutritional yeast. He buried his face in his hands and began to sob.

***

Bruce sat on a bench outside with his phone. Tony’s voice had a playfully stern edge to it.

“You’re not calling to ask for donations for that green energy research are you?”

Bruce faced the music, sorta. “No.”

“And that would be the world weary Project Loki sigh. I told you this was a bad idea. What has he done now?”

“Last night he was sick and….” Shame tightened Bruce’s chest. “I overstepped so many boundaries.”

“You fucked him?”

“No,” said Bruce, insulted. “He was a disgusting mess.” And then he couldn’t stop the wistfulness that crept into his voice. “But, for a while, it was like he was my disgusting mess.”

“That sounds fun.”

“After he fell asleep, I stayed awake for another hour, just watching him breathe."

Tony gave a slight groan. “Why don’t you call one of your fuckbuddies? That model you brought to the New Year’s Eve party?”

“Madison? He had the personality of a head of cabbage and the IQ of a postage stamp. Compared to—” He caught himself, but not in time.

“Loki?”

Bruce crumpled a little. “Loki’s exciting, alive—”

“Deranged, sociopathic—”

“He’s neither of those things. There’s this sweetness about him—”

“Look. Bruce. I’ll get in touch with Thor. We’ll haul his ass back to Asgard. You go back to your research. Problem solved.”

“I can’t do that to him. He’s so needy. And he’s trying. I can tell he’s trying.”

“He’s not a puppy. You can’t keep him.”

Bruce couldn’t say anything for a moment. “Sending him back to Asgard would be reprehensible. I won’t do that to him. I can control this.”

After a long silence, Tony said, “Why did you call me?”

“I guess I needed to talk to someone.”

“So, now I’m your sponsor?”

“Technically, I think you would have had to once been addicted to Loki to be my sponsor.” Long pause. “Joke.”

“I’ve never heard you so miserable. Serious.”

“I have to go—department meeting in a few minutes.”  
“Hey, listen. Bruce. It’s okay to fail. No one expected this to work anyway.”

***

Bruce had promised they would talk, and they did. But nothing—as far as Loki could tell—was actually resolved. Loki held his feelings close, and Bruce didn’t seem to have any. The scientist admitted to caring for Loki, then went on some long, painful tangent on agape, and then there was some horrible drivel about flowers on a pond or a wheel or something, but Loki had stopped listening by that point, because all he could think about was strangling Bruce.

So much longing infused Loki’s fury. Some days, he could barely contain himself. Meditation and yoga helped, especially with the anger. Long masturbation sessions helped with the longing. But nothing helped completely.

Loki struggled through the days and nights, trying to pretend he didn’t care, while every hour, he cared a little more.

***

Bruce decided they should celebrate Halloween with margaritas and creamy polenta. Loki discovered he loved margaritas and drank almost the entire pitcher while Bruce finished cooking.

Tired of watching Bruce stir the pot, Loki spirited the margaritas to the cocktail table and sprawled on the couch. He felt loose-jointed and wonderful. He seemed to be viewing the world through the bottom of a glass, everything just a little warped and shiny. “Let’s eat on the couch and watch _Robot Chicken_.”

“I don’t think so. Do you even get the references on that show?”

“Enough of them.” He frowned. Why was Bruce trying to ruin _Robot Chicken_ and his splendid margarita buzz?

Bruce sat a tray with a small spinach salad and a bowl of something yellow in front of Loki. Loki stared at it in dismay. “This is porridge. I thought you said this was fun. In no universe is porridge fun. Ever.”

Bruce grinned. “Taste it. It’s cornmeal with soy cheese and sage, some basil….”

Loki dug his spoon around the bowl and sighed. “I’m a god, and you offer me porridge. I should strike you down. Put a pox on your goats. Something like that.” He tasted it. “I guess it doesn’t suck.”

“High praise from the glorious god of mischief. Does this save my goats?”

Loki scowled at his playfulness and ate a little more polenta. It was actually kind of good. “You love cooking, don’t you?”

Bruce smiled. “I do, actually. I see it as part of self-nurturing. I think we should be kind to ourselves. The way you would treat someone you love—with gentleness and understanding—that’s how you should treat yourself.”

Loki felt tears gather in his eyes and turned toward the window. Too many margaritas weren’t allowing him to mask his emotions well. He ignored Bruce’s question and refused to face him.

Stupid fucking Bruce slid closer and rested a palm against his upper arm. “Loki,” he repeated very softly, very gently, “What did I say?”

“I can’t do that,” Loki managed, hating Bruce for making him say it.

“Of course you can, and it would be very good for you. Just think of how, when you love someone, you’re able to forgive; you’re able to give the benefit of the doubt; you want them to be happy and safe; you want good things for them. It’s that simple.” His voice became softer than snow falling. “You deserve forgiveness. You deserve love.”

Loki trembled with rage. Eyes full of bitter, unshed tears, he turned on Bruce, barely suppressing the urge to strike him. “It’s not that easy! Stop saying it like it’s turning on a light switch. You’re such a douche! You’re a scat-covered dildo with flies on it!” Loki would have continued letting Bruce know all of the things he was, but tears clogged his throat and he began choking.

Bruce sat beside him, calm as the sand in that stupid zen garden. “I’m sorry, Loki. I guess it’s not that easy. What do you think makes it difficult for you?”

Loki buried his face in his hands and moaned into them, trying to will the traitorous tears back into his skull. He sucked a huge breath. To his knees he said, “What you’re telling me to do is based on an experience I’ve never had.” He sighed, feeling oddly calmed by the admission. “I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone before.”

Bruce withdrew from him and bent slightly, as if trying to see his face. “Surely you’ve had relationships before? You’re very attractive….”

The flattery drew Loki like a moth to flame. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and blinked at Bruce. “Of course, I’ve had relationships. I’ve had many. And every last one of them was a hot, twisted kinkfest filled with erotic wonders you mere mortals can’t even imagine.” He deflated a little. “But there was no caring and there certainly wasn’t love. I had sex with people to cause things to happen or to prevent things from happening. My relationships were like military campaigns. I engaged in them to get something I wanted.”

“And you never wanted love?”

“You know what? Fuck you! You’re sitting there in your smartass bamboo pajamas with your pretentious porridge, and you’re staring at me like I’m some pathetic asshole, when really you’re the pathetic one. You talk all of this shit about love and caring and whatever, but I don’t see your ass with anybody. You just sit up here like a big, drippy bag of enlightened bullshit in your zen cave with your stupid pot of sand doing your silly splits and shit. All alone. And if that’s where all of this love-love-care-care nonsense gets you then all I have to say is, go to Hel! You’re more pathetic than I’ll ever be!”

Minutes passed as Bruce stared at him. For a moment, Loki wondered if he had broken something inside the man, rendered him silent and taken away his power to do anything other than sit there, beholding the greatness of the god of mischief. But then Bruce said quietly, “You’re right. I am more pathetic than you. Not, I believe, for any of the reasons you cited, but because you have a chance at something I can’t have. If you’ll only let go of some of your self-destructive idiocy you could be in a real relationship.” A wave of pain crossed his face. “I can’t do that. I can’t allow myself to do that. At any moment, something could happen, and I could lose my hold on the monster inside me. I could kill the person I loved.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “You’re making excuses. I’ve been here six months. You haven’t gone all big green growler with me.”

Bruce snorted. “Yeah, not that it matters. I can’t kill you.” Recognition and yearning flashed suddenly in his eyes, only to be replaced by a profound, deep sadness. He began picking up the bowls and glasses and taking them to the kitchen.

Loki poured the remainder of the margaritas down his throat, then took the pitcher to the sink.

Bruce began to load the dishwasher. Loki stood beside him. “Bruce, I think I let things get out of h—”

“Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter.” He didn’t look up from his task. “I’m not sure this is working out. Maybe it’s time for you to return to Asgard.”

Fear flooded Loki. “What do you mean? Why would you say that?”

“Right, things are going so well.”

“They are. I’m learning all sorts of things. And I’m doing better. And—”

Bruce sighed wearily. “I don’t know that I can do this. That I should be doing this…. I’m not sure this is right.”

Loki watched him finish the dishes, watched him wipe down the kitchen. “How dare you ignore me!” he cried suddenly.

“I’m not ignoring you,” Bruce said quietly. “I’m just not engaging you. I need to be alone for a while.”

Loki watched him disappear into his room, then retreated into his own room. He threw himself on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Asgard. The thought made his throat tighten with tears. But this was a kind of prison, too. One, in its own way, perhaps as cruel as a cell in Asgard. And in Asgard, he would be alone. Here, there was Bruce…. Bruce. No matter how frustratingly stupid the scientist was.…

Bruce flung the door open. “You almost had me, didn’t you? You trickster! You’re not getting out of this that easy!”

Loki wanted to laugh with relief, wanted to tell Bruce that if sent to Asgard he would fight his way back to Bruce’s side. But he said, “So, besides being boring and pathetic, you’re also clever. Good for you.”

“Good night, Loki. Pleasant dreams.” The door closed.

But Loki couldn’t sleep. He flopped around the bed, but couldn’t get comfortable. He wondered if Bruce was having trouble sleeping as well. After mulling it over for a while, he decided to check on Bruce. He found him in the dark. A husky female voice bathed the shadows in song. Bruce appeared to be sleeping. The urge to be next to him overwhelmed Loki. He slipped into bed beside the scientist, who was lying on his stomach with his head on his arms.

“Loki! What do you think your doing?”

“I wanted to see you.” He paused. The music was strange—happy and sad all at once. “Who are you listening to?”

“Billie Holiday.” Bruce sighed. “What are you doing here, Loki?”

I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I wanted to see how you were. I wanted to tell you how much I— “I’m hungry. Can you make me something to eat?”

Bruce was quiet for a long time. “I made dinner earlier. It’s not my problem if you chose not to eat it.”

“Can’t you make me something else?”

“You can make something.”

“I don’t know how. You need to get up and make something for me.”

Bruce made a strange, sort of wounded animal noise. “I can’t. I have a terrible headache. Order something from the menus in the drawer by the refrigerator.” He stretched and pulled his wallet from the nightstand. He sat up enough to fumble with the wallet for a minute, then just handed the whole thing to Loki. “Use whatever you need.”

Loki straddled Bruce’s back. “You’re very close to wearing the nearest wall,” Bruce growled.

Loki pressed his thumbs into the base of Bruce’s skull, kneaded, then fanned his fingers outward. He curled his fingers around the sides of Bruce’s head. Protests and threats ceased. Only darkness and music filled the room. He massaged Bruce’s head and neck and shoulders with slow, seductive movements, allowing his hands to say what his tongue could not. After a long time, he whispered gently, “Do you feel better?”

Bruce seemed unable to answer for a moment. Finally, he said in soft voice. “Yes…that—” He exhaled deeply. “Loki….”

“Now can you get up and make me something to eat?”

Another sigh, but somehow very different than the other one. “Let me listen to this song first.”

Loki dismounted and lay next to Bruce. “What song is this?” he whispered.

“It’s called _Gloomy Sunday_.”

The shadows seemed to thicken. They poured over Loki’s body like midnight made of honey and seeped through his pores into his internal organs, where they lay in gelid blackness. When the song finished, Bruce turned off the stereo, but they remained still. “So it wasn’t real?” Loki asked. “Her lover didn’t die?”

“Not according to the last stanza.”

“But she was going to kill herself. Why? Your lives are so short as it is.”

“She wanted to be with her lover that badly. And she isn’t sad or apologetic. She has the courage to disappear into mystery and nothingness, to leap into the Abyss—hoping to be reunited with her love.”

Loki fought a cringe. “That’s horrible.”

“It’s beautiful.” Bruce laughed. “It’s romantic. Holiday had a hard life. But there’s something authentic and hopeful about her music—it’s life-affirming. It says even in misery there is beauty; even in despair there is humanity and grace.”

A wave of sickness washed through Loki. Was he hurting Bruce? “Are you miserable?”

“Are we going to add that to my list of descriptions?”

“Are you miserable because of me?”

“I’m not miserable. You challenge me, and sometimes it gets to me more than it should, but only because I…like you too much. I’m not being as objective with you as I should be.”

“So, I am making you miserable.”

Bruce hesitated, then said, “I enjoy being around you too much for you to ever make me miserable. You’re really wonderful in your own infuriating way.”

Loki turned on his side to massage Bruce’s neck some more. The faint praise made him tingle all over. He wanted to have sex. Badly. And he wanted more—something—so much more. His skin felt tight. His body hummed. He wondered if he should make some sort of declaration of his feelings.

Loki’s stomach gave a long, loud growl in the silent dark. Bruce chuckled and sat up. “Yes, my prince. I’ll make you a grilled soy-cheese.”

He left, and Loki lay in the triangle of light created from the partially open bedroom door. He snuffled in despair for a moment, then gathered himself and sat up. And then something caught his eye. Sharing the triangle of light with him was Bruce’s bedside table. On the table was the zen garden. It still had Loki’s name on it.

Loki shivered deeply. Did this mean something? He blinked away tears and tried to banish his hope.

***

The next day they took a train to a campground outside the city because Bruce seemed to think it would be fun to sleep on a platform underneath a tarp out in the woods when they had a perfectly good apartment with indoor plumbing.

Despite his being a little hungover and despite his grumblings on the way there, once they were under the trees, Loki did feel his spirits lift. His spirits lifted even more when Bruce handed him a flask of scotch. Loki drank while Bruce started a fire in the fire pit. Loki could have started it with a spell, but he thought it was good for the scientist to feel useful.

Night fell, and they talked sparingly. The flames spoke more than either of them. Loki enjoyed the fire and could have slept beside it, but a rainstorm chased them into the tent.

Rain beat against the tarp and the leaves of the trees. It pelted the metal fire pit, and sank into the earth. Loki listened to the rain. Confined in a small space with the man he loved, he could not have felt more alone. An LED lantern sat between them, but it could have been a chasm yawning a mile wide and plunging to infinity.

“I know things have been kind of rough lately,” said Bruce. “But I want you to know that, the more I’ve thought about it, the more I realize how right you are about a lot of things.” His gaze fell to his feet. “I _am_ boring, and I _am_ pathetic…and I _am_ miserable. I’ve become really good at lying to myself. I tell myself if I have the monster under control, then the rest takes care of itself. But what’s left over isn’t enough. It isn’t close to being enough.”

Loki felt sick. His mind was muddled, and he couldn’t think of what to say. “I’m sorry,” was the only thing that found its way past his lips.

Bruce shrugged. “Don’t be. Really. Thank you.” He took a deep breath. “That’s what tricksters do—they challenge us to reexamine our lives, our beliefs. I’m thankful you came into my life.”

“You brought me into it.” Loki couldn’t help himself.

“That’s right,” said Bruce. “I asked for it.” He looked away, as if the corner had suddenly become interesting. “Listen, Loki, I know you’re not happy here. I’ve been talking to Thor about getting your sentence reduced. I was telling him how well you’ve been doing, and he thinks it’s possible you might not see a cell at all.”

And then only the rain spoke. The lantern seemed to glow brighter as the shadows deepened. Loki’s blood hammered in his ears. “You decide,” said Loki. Offering the choice to Bruce felt right even as it made his heart clench. “I want to go wherever you want me to be.”

“I think,” Bruce said so quietly that the rain nearly drowned it out, “that you should go to Asgard and be with your family.”

Loki nodded, blinking. He had given Bruce the choice, and this was what Bruce had decided. He tried to remain stoic and busied himself with unrolling and arranging his sleeping bag. The rain died down, as if it, too, prepared for sleep. He kept the flask for company and lay down for the night. Aside from begging Bruce to leave the lantern on, he said nothing. Staring into the lantern light, he fell into a stupor.

Dreams of Asgard woke him. Rain drummed on the tarp with a marshal air. He fought his tears until they overwhelmed him. He tried to sob quietly, gasping into his pillow while his body rocked with grief.

And then Bruce was next to him rubbing his back. “Loki? Loki, what’s wrong?”

Loki tried not to say anything. Then it all came out in a torrent. “Nobody ever wants me. It’s always the same thing. My real father was ashamed of me. Odin only adopted me because of a prophecy—he never truly wanted me. He never— He could have just—just a little—that’s all I wanted.” He sniffled. “A hint of affection. Some approval. Something. But all he ever had was criticism and nothing. Heaps and heaps of nothing.” He swallowed. “And, I think somehow I always knew I was adopted. They didn’t tell me, but I knew. Thor was part of them, and I was—something else. I always felt different. I always felt wrong.”

Loki trembled all over. His chest heaved and then he gasped, “And now I _am_ wrong. It’ll never let me go. I’ll never get it off of me. I can’t help it now. I can’t help it.” He couldn’t stop crying. So many years of rejection and sadness had been locked up inside him. He felt thin and friable as strings made of glass. At any moment, he was sure he would shatter.

And then his head and body were grabbed and his face was mashed into Bruce’s shoulder. He sobbed into the charcoal gray sweater, drenching it with his tears and an abundance of snot. Bruce, nothing but silence and crushing arms, held him firmly.

Finally, Loki came back to himself, his sobs subsiding, his breath returning. The lantern-lit world was turned into prisms by the tears clinging to his lashes. But even then, he and Bruce stayed entwined for a long time.

With a great sigh, Bruce released him. The scientist sat on his sleeping bag and wiped tears from his eyes. After a few minutes of silence, he said in a sincere and quiet voice, “Loki,” he said the name with the delicacy of a first kiss. “I think your father is a fucking asshole.”

Loki grinned through his tears.

Bruce smiled bitterly. “And you don’t have to be what he made you.” His dark eyes reflected the lantern light. “You can choose to let this shit go. You can be who you want to be, who makes you happy. Loki.” Another verbal kiss. “He ruined your childhood. He doesn’t have to ruin your life. I know it feels like you can’t help it, but you’re the only one who can.”

Loki nodded, touched beyond words. He tried to take what Bruce said to heart, but all he could really think about was Bruce pounding his ass through the floor.

***

They went home the next day. Because somehow Bruce hadn’t gotten enough of the outdoors, they went for a walk in Central Park. Loki had avoided the topic of his returning to Asgard. Bruce had not brought it up again, either. It sat in the pit of Loki’s stomach like a knot of serpents.

When they reached a place relatively free of people, Bruce stopped and turned to Loki. “This song keeps playing in my head when I’m with you.” He fixed earbuds in Loki’s ears. Loki braced himself for banjos.

Loki turned his attention to the ground, trying to concentrate on the song. It was _Simple Song_ , by the Shins. He had heard it before, but hadn’t really paid attention to the lyrics or listened to it in the context that it had anything to do with him.

His breath caught in his chest. This was a love song. A sweet one. He looked up and found Bruce staring at him. He dove into Bruce’s mouth and sucked his tongue out of his head. (Loki wasn’t into delicate first kisses—especially when he had been waiting for months.) He felt Bruce’s hands on the small of his back and in his hair. He filled his own hands with the growing bulge in Bruce’s jeans. Loki felt starved. He ground his humming erection against Bruce’s and moaned into his mouth.

Bruce began laughing and pulled away slightly. “We need to go home.”

“We need to have sex,” said Loki, grinding his jaw.

Bruce pressed his lips close to Loki’s ear. “I’m not thinking of stuff we can do behind bushes. The kinds of things I want to do to you, we can’t do here.”

“Let’s go home!”

***

Loki blinked slowly in the shower as Bruce pushed strands of wet hair off his face. Everything now was slow and gentle. They kissed softly, moving under the shower spray.

Loki grinned as he soaped up Bruce’s chest. He realized suddenly that he had never been this happy in his life. That knowledge frightened him, for if things had gone a different way, this might have never been. “Thank you for not sending me back to Asgard,” he said in a small voice.

Bruce washed behind Loki’s ears. “I noticed that you let the decision be mine. I only said Asgard because I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“You’re all I wanted,” said Loki tearfully. Bruce hugged him tight. Loki parted Bruce’s lips with his tongue and began to quietly conquer the warm world of his mouth. As they embraced under the steaming water, Loki knew that he had finally won.

The End


	2. A Bag of Cats for Reindeer Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Loki and Bruce celebrate their first Christmas together with family and friends, a prank gift steals the god of mischief’s holiday spirit, and Bruce realizes dating a temperamental frost giant often means skating on thin ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Some back story and other elements combine a hodgepodge of Marvel stuff with Norse mythology, ancient Norse customs, and modern paganism.

Bruce wobbled uneasily on his ice skates. The festively-lit evergreen, the throngs of puffing, bundled children, and the gratingly up-tempo Christmas carols did nothing to soothe his nerves. “I guess this is payback for that throatsinging show?”

“So you’re admitting now that you deserve payback for that?” Loki grinned beside him, his skating as effortless and graceful as if he had been born with blades on his feet.

“You didn’t think it was beautiful and otherworldly?”

“Yes, but after two hours I was wishing I were in another world.”

“I guess it was kind of long-- Fuck!” He nearly fell, but Loki caught him.

“Bruce, this isn’t that difficult.” Loki glided in front of him and spun to face him. He looked as annoyingly poised skating backwards as he did skating forward. “You have lovely balance when you do yoga. You should be great at this. You’re tensing up too much. Try to relax.”

“There are too many people here. I feel ridiculous. It’s embarrassing.”

Loki’s smiling expression shifted to one of deep sympathy. “Give me your hands,” he said gently. Bruce let Loki draw him close. “There. You can’t always be the one in control, Banner. Close your eyes.”

“So I’m going to be skating blind, and you’ll be skating backward? This is a bad--”

“Trust me.”

A little over a year ago, that statement would have been appalling. Who in his right mind would trust someone who called himself a god and attacked New York City with an alien army? But so much had changed since then. Something about Loki had touched Bruce, and he had been unable to let it go. Earlier that year, he had appealed to Thor and Odin to let him rehabilitate Loki on Midgard. But six months of living together had turned them into a couple. And now, only a little more than a month into their relationship, he found it hard to imagine a time when he had not trusted Loki. So, after only a moment’s hesitation, Bruce obeyed.

“Mischief!” Loki squealed, spinning them around rapidly.

Bruce glared into Loki’s beaming face and slipped down, but Loki hefted him up.  
“All right, so close your eyes--”

“Yeah, we already played this game--”

“But this time I mean it. Come on. Eyes closed.” He pouted a little when Bruce just frowned at him. “Trust me.”

With a sigh, Bruce closed his eyes and let Loki move his hands from the lapels of Loki’s coat to his slender trickster hips. “Follow my movements,” Loki told him, voice soft and rich as mulled wine. “Flow into me--like sex. Let your body join mine. Just breathe. And flow. Relax. Don’t think about anything but my voice and our connection.”

He gave himself over to Loki completely, allowed his always too active mind to go numb, to operate on only the most basic level—respiration, coordination, equilibrium—let himself devolve into little more than muscle and movement. Somewhere, as if at some great distance, _Let It Snow_ hummed overhead and an ocean of crowd sounds roared so softly it might have been born of a seashell. Nothing was so tangible, so real as Loki’s body beneath his hands, Loki’s breath steaming against his face, the quiet crush of steel parting ice.

They pulled to the side and stopped. He opened his eyes as Loki’s hands clasped either side of his head. The intensity of Loki’s expression stole his breath. Sometimes Bruce was bothered by how seldom Loki said ‘I love you.’ But when he looked at Bruce like that, words seemed meaningless.

“I love you,” Bruce offered in a hoarse whisper, struck by the phrase’s inadequacy to  
communicate the roil of feelings inside him, yet using it nonetheless.

“I know,” said Loki quietly, amazement softening his face, his eyes wide and innocent. “Oh, Bruce!” he said in a breathless sigh that made Bruce wish his name always sounded like that and pulled him into a kiss. Loki tore away angrily. “I hate this song!”

“What?” Bruce had forgotten that any music was playing.

“It’s that infernal reindeer song!”

Bruce, flushed and hard, tried to recover enough to figure out what the fuck had Loki so upset. “ _Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer?_ Are you serious? That’s what has you in such a snit?”

“It’s the reindeer games song,” said Loki, pressing close to Bruce as if seeking protection.

Bruce thought Loki might be joking, but tears had started in his eyes. Bruce hugged him. “Poor Loki. It’s not that bad, is it? Have you ever listened to the lyrics? It’s actually a nice song.”

Loki sniffed. “The only one I’ve really listened to is that ‘Batman smells’ song.”

“Um, that’s not really—let’s just focus on Rudolf for the moment. It’s about an outcast who’s shunned by his peers until his deformity proves useful, and then they accept him.” He paused. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe that is kind of a bad song… I liked it when I was a kid, though. I liked the idea that an outcast could eventually be accepted by the herd.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

Bruce sighed. “Nothing, baby. Your helm has horns and reindeer have--”

“Antlers. Reindeer have ANTLERS.”

“Which are kind of like horns--”

“But they’re not!”

“Why don’t we go home, drink hot tea, cuddle, and maybe--”

“The apartment is so sterile and so full of gray. I want to be here with the Christmas trees and the lights and the happy songs about people with deformities having no inherent value.”

Bruce blinked. “Loki, if you want a tree, we can get one. We can get lights, decorations—all of that stuff.”

“We can’t,” said Loki, visibly drooping, “because you’re waging a war on Christmas because you’re a godless liberal and don’t believe anything.”

“Fucking wow, Loki.” Bruce took a steadying breath. “No, I like Christmas. I don’t think  
decorating a tree has any religious significance. And I believe in all kinds of things. I believe in love, compassion, reason, integrity--” He smiled. “You.”

Loki rolled his eyes a little.

“Come on. Let’s go shopping.” He gave Loki’s hair a slight tug. “We’ll make this the holliest, jolliest, merriest, whatever-else-ist Christmas an atheist and a pagan god ever had!”

***

Loki lay on the floor with Bruce admiring the result of their labors. Loki was quite pleased with himself. Bruce seemed stunned.

“I can’t believe this is my apartment,” said Bruce.

“I know,” said Loki. “It’s so cheerful.”

“It’s so…sure, we can go with cheerful.”

Loki basked in the blinking lights. “When you decorate, it’s good to have a theme in mind.”

“What theme is…uh…this, exactly?”

“Obviously, the rainbows we created with strands of lights wheeling around the room represent gay pride. And the Victorian ornaments are so lovely, so we had to have those. So, this is Dickens Over the Rainbow.”

“What about all of the peacocks?”

Loki turned to frown at Bruce. “I liked them. They’re beautiful.”

“So, really, it’s Dickens over the Rainbow with Peacocks.”

Loki snorted and got up to rearrange the ornaments on the tree again. He made a few adjustments, then consulted Bruce. “Do the Santas seem balanced to you?”

“Yes.”

Loki stepped back, surveying the tree again. “What do you think about monkeys? Maybe we need some monkeys? Or more bells? Both, maybe. And doves. I really think it needs some more movement.”

“I don’t think that tree will hold any more ornaments.”

Loki sat beside Bruce and pulled the scientist’s head into his lap. “Our first tree,” he told Bruce softly. “Our first winter. Our first Christmas….”

“Tomorrow night we’ll go to our first holiday party.”

“Tony’s party.” Loki couldn’t keep the ice from his voice.

“It won’t be like Thanksgiving. Coulson won’t be there.”

“Good. I don’t like to go to parties with people I killed.”

“What about with someone you love?”

Loki combed his fingers through Bruce’s hair. “All right. First holiday party.”

***

Bruce and Loki hadn’t quite entered Tony’s living area when Thor intercepted them. He thrust a large gold foil gift bag at Loki. Loki accepted it with reluctance and an air of suspicion. He held the bag out in front of him with his arm fully extended.

“Open it,” said Thor. “Come on, Loki. Open it."

Natasha slunk up behind the god of thunder and peered around him. Others joined them. Loki opened the bag and pulled out a small stuffed cat. He handed it to Bruce, then fished out another. And another. He stared into the large bag and looked up at Thor. “You’ve given me a bag of cats?”

Tony laughed. “Someone really should have been filming that.”

Amid the snorts and amused titters, Thor grinned at Loki while Loki glared at Thor and Bruce wished he had somewhere to hide.

“If this,” said Loki with self-righteous indignation, shaking the gold foil bag at Thor, “is some comment on ergi and my preference to receive men--”

A flustered Thor shook his blond mane. “No, no. It’s funny. It’s because of what Bruce said.”

Natasha smirked suddenly. “That’s right. I had forgotten about that.” She pulled a cat out of the bag and smoothed a hand over it. “What a cuddly brain you have, Loki! Too funny, Thor.”

Thor beamed. “I’m spreading Christmas cheer.”

“Yeah,” said Natasha. “But I would have gone with an atomizer.” She displayed an imaginary bottle and whispered sexily, “Crazy—the fragrance for puny gods.”

Bruce could almost feel Loki’s stomach clench. Loki stared at him with abject horror. “What are they talking about?!”

Before Bruce could say anything, Thor said, “Once Bruce said your brain was like a bag of cats and someone could almost smell the crazy on you.”

“You can’t ever stop being an asshole, can you?” Loki said to Thor.

“I defended you!” said Thor. “It’s over now. And it’s funny.”

Loki bristled, white with quiet fury. “Strangely, I’m not amused.”

“Loki,” Bruce began gently.

“And you! I would expect this from them, but you-- I thought you were different. I thought--” He wheeled away, fleeing a few steps before seeming to realize he had nowhere to run. He stopped in the center of the sitting area and hugged himself with a small, frustrated gasp.

Bruce caught up with Loki and laid a hand on his shoulder. Loki flinched from his touch. “They didn’t mean any harm. It was a joke.”

“How could you say such things about me?”

“I didn’t know you then.”

“You told me you loved me from the moment you saw me.”

“I said almost from the moment I saw you.” He frowned. “You do remember what was going on back then, right? You were kind of being a massive dick.” He realized suddenly how loud his voice seemed in the large space, how quiet everything around them had become. They were the center of attention. “Balcony,” he said gruffly, pulling Loki by an arm. “Let’s take this outside.”

Once they were on the balcony, Loki broke free and put a short distance between them. “How dare you have fun at my expense,” he said, his gaze on the city and as far from Bruce as possible.

“For a god of mischief, you certainly have some tender feelings regarding jokes.”

“I love jokes. Just not when they’re about me.”

Bruce sighed. “Okay. Look, Loki, I’m sorry your feelings were hurt.”

“How could you say those things about me? Me???”

“I thought we covered this already. It’s the past. I don’t think that now. And it wasn’t really all that bad was it? I mean, I like cats. I didn’t say your brain was like a bag of Justin Biebers. Or global warming deniers. I said cats. Soft, sweet fuzzy cats.” He swept a hand like a languorous tail around Loki’s neck and tickled down his collar.

Loki pulled away from him. “But that’s NOT what you meant! Sweet, fuzzy—NO. You--”

“Said something in jest that maybe wasn’t so nice. YOU were invading my planet. Who’s the bigger douche in this equation?”

Loki stared at him with shock-widened eyes. “You just called me a douche.”

Bruce buried his face in his hands with a groan. “Fucking hell, Loki. You’re the god of  
melodrama.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to do this now. Let’s call a truce, have a drink. Relax. Maybe try to remember that we came here to have fun?”

Loki flicked a cold gaze his way. His face was grim and tight, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to do this ever. This was all a mistake. From the very start—a mistake.”

“What are you--” Bruce could only stare for a moment. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“I would have thought you would catch onto that a little faster, but, yes. It’s over.”

Bruce wanted to laugh, but couldn’t. Nothing in Loki’s demeanor suggested this was a joke. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. Absolutely. Deathly so.”

“This is how you want to do this? Here? Now?”

“What? I’m observing the proper etiquette. I didn’t text you.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this over a stupid joke.”

“Actually, I’m doing it over an offhand remark.”

For the first time, Bruce noticed the cold. Tiny flakes of snow floated through the freezing night air. Inside, his friends moved about the bright, red-splashed room. The lights, the warmth, the life inside contrasted with the frosty stillness of the balcony where he and Loki stood like statues, like strangers. “You can’t do this,” he said finally.

“I am. I did. It’s done.”

Bruce sank his hands into his pockets. He watched Loki’s face, wanting to remember every beautiful, cruel line of it. Snow had begun to frost the dark hair. He took a deep breath and watched it billow in front of him before speaking. “I understand you’re hurt and angry, but everything else has been so good. You can’t just throw that away.”

Loki pulled his arms across his chest in a gesture somehow very reminiscent of a black and white era starlet adjusting her mink stole. “It’s not as if it’s been a long time—almost two months. That’s nothing even by your gnat-brained human standards. To me, it’s been less than an eye blink. I’ve taken longer picking out socks.”

“I should have seen this coming. You almost never tell me you love me.” He shrugged and pulled his hands out to blow on them. “Because you don’t. For a god of lies, you have an endearing honesty about you.” Loki looked at him, but said nothing. Bruce huddled against the railing.

Silence deepened as the snow fell. Finally, he said, “If this is what you want, I’ll stay here tonight. You can gather your things at the apartment and sleep there. Stay there as long as you need to. I’ll figure something out.” He closed his eyes and tried to think quiet thoughts.

“Bifrost,” said Loki, sighing. “Fuck. We need to talk.”

“You need to leave me alone now, Loki.” Bruce fought to tame the harshness slipping into his voice. “I want to be civil and adult about this, but there’s a part of me that wants to crush you in my arms and forbid you to leave—and I have a feeling that part’s green.”

“Bruce,” Loki drew closer.

Bruce trembled. “I can’t. Not now.” He hung his head as Loki edged nearer. “I know it’s only been a couple of months,” he said raggedly, “but they’ve been the best months of my life.”

Loki gathered him close and filled his mouth with silver tongue. After a long, luxurious kiss, Loki pulled away. “I love you,” he said with a fierce urgency. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He snuggled closer, a frenzy of hands and lips. “I don’t say it because it scares me. Not because I don’t feel it. I feel it all the time.” He licked Bruce’s eyes with long swipes of his tongue. “I’m sorry, Bruce. I’m so sorry.”

Bruce kissed him back and rubbed and squeezed him all over. His ministrations drew a very sweet, very small noise from the trickster that sent a deep shudder through Bruce’s body. Loki ground his erection against Bruce’s thigh. Bruce caught a handful of Loki’s hair and tugged his head to the side, exposing his neck to snowflakes and passionate kisses. Loki purred and writhed against him. Bruce teased Loki, enjoying the cruelty of clothing and Loki’s needy moans.

“Isn’t it kind of cold out here for makeup sex?”

Bruce hugged Loki tight and stared at Tony guiltily. “I…forgot where we were.”

Tony looked at his drink and laughed. “That’s okay. But why don’t you take ye olde sausage fencing into the glass room? You’ll still have a great view, but it’ll be a lot warmer.”

***

Loki surveyed the room while Bruce played with something in the closet. Loki was disappointed to find that the glass room was not made entirely of glass. It looked much like the other rooms he had seen in Tony’s tower--cold, austere and modern with a decidedly masculine bent, but glass only seemed an accent material. Slate and steel predominated.

On the plus side, there was a pool.

“Take off your clothes and get in the pool,” Bruce told him. “I’ll show you why he calls this the glass room.”

Loki obeyed. He let Bruce lead him through the warm water toward the wall of windows and into a nook formed by the glass. “This is a balcony,” said Loki. “An enclosed glass balcony.”

“And now,” said Bruce, pulling him into the balcony, “we’re suspended above Manhattan in a glass bubble.”

Loki pressed against the cold glass to watch the snow falling. He could almost feel the frozen night pressing back, the glittering lights of the city like thousands of pitiless eyes. As he stood there, naked, some part of him wished the thousands of mouths that must live beneath those eyes would fly at him with their razor-sharp teeth.

He closed his eyes with a sharp inhalation as another mouth, a real one, chewed his hipbone. And then he felt warm lips on the small of his back, felt the warm strokes of Bruce’s breath against his cold skin. He let Bruce kiss and tug him back to reality, let Bruce peel him from the dark glass. His body tingling with life and pleasure, he pushed his fingertips through Bruce’s hair.

Bruce, his hands caressing Loki’s thighs, smiled up at him. “I love you, Loki,” he whispered.

“I love _you_.” Loki, suddenly beside himself, stroked his scientist’s jaw and stared into his eyes. “That you thought for a single moment that I didn’t--”

Bruce took Loki’s hands and kissed them. “I’m sorry I doubted you.” He nuzzled Loki’s stomach. “It is nice to hear it, though.” Smiling, he pulled Loki down into the shallow water. Loki laughed knowingly.

***

In the sauna, which Bruce had started before they went into the pool, they lay on the wooden deck with their cold, wet bodies pressed against each other, kissing languidly in the heat. They passed the time in silence, basking in each others' presence.

Loki listened to the hiss of steam and the intermittent creak of metal while Bruce massaged his lower abdomen. His eyes blinked slowly. Love filled his lungs like breath.  
Perfect. Everything was perfect….

Loki shuddered suddenly, the peace he felt marred by the realization that he had almost thrown this all away. “I’m sorry I was so angry,” he said, trailing a finger down Bruce’s slick side. “It seemed like you had a private joke with Thor. It felt like such a betrayal. So many days in my youth-- And more after....”

Bruce rubbed beneath Loki’s navel. “What do you mean? You were a prince.”

“In Asgard, magic is considered the domain of women. Men who practice it are ridiculed. And, while raping a male foe to humiliate him is fine, wanting to be loved by a man, to assume a passive role, is unmanly. Being a prince means very little when you know no one respects you, when there are always whispers at your back.” He traced Bruce’s ear. “Thor’s friends did more than whisper. Thor, they loved; I was the brunt of their jokes.” He paused, struggling. Even the admission hurt. “Somehow, they were able to take everything I was and make it meaningless.”

“I’m sorry you felt that way.” Bruce rolled his tongue around Loki’s left nipple. “And I’m so sorry you were treated like that. I understand that feeling perfectly.” He kissed the right nipple, then the center of Loki’s chest. “It can hurt so much. It can make you crazy. Bag of cats crazy.” He stroked Loki’s wet hair. “I tried to blow up my high school.”

Loki rose up on an elbow. “You what?!”

“Yeah.” Bruce traced a little heart symbol over Loki’s chest with a fingernail. “I was so pissed that I built a bomb. I was angry, jealous, wounded, rash. Despite all of my supposed brilliance I attempted something unbelievably stupid. I wanted to show everyone what I could do—I wanted a monument of rubble to my ego and my genius.” He smiled wryly, his dark eyes boring into Loki’s. “Does any of that sound familiar?”

“But you’re a hero! Heroes don’t blow up schools!”

“I wasn’t born a hero. I became one. There isn’t always a straight line from average person to superhero. Sometimes it’s crooked.” His stare fell, yielded to somber intensity. “Actions have consequences. And that can be a positive thing. It means you never have to be satisfied with the person you see in the mirror. You can always change your actions and alter the trajectory of your path.”

“What happened with the bomb?”

“I had second thoughts and defused it, but I was discovered. I’m guessing if someone in the government hadn’t decided I could be useful, I’d be pacing a little cell somewhere.”

“They decided you were useful. Like Rudolf.”

Bruce kissed Loki’s shoulder and laughed. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” He outlined the edge of Loki’s lower lip with his tongue tip. “It wasn’t on a whim that I wanted to help you. I know otherwise good people can suffer horrible lapses in judgment, can be so blinded by scars that they can’t see what’s right.” He cupped Loki’s cheek. “I believe in second chances. Every day I look at you and see someone turning his life around. Someone I love with my whole heart.”

“Oh, Bruce,” said Loki, shivering, chilled despite the heat.

“Poor Loki,” said Bruce gently, holding him close. “Let’s go for a swim.”

“I was thinking we could go drown those cats in the Hudson.”

Bruce squeezed a handful of Loki’s ass cheek and sat up. “I have a better idea. Let’s swim, and then tomorrow we’ll donate the cats to SAFE.”

“What’s that?”

“Stuffed Animals For Emergencies. It’s a charity. They collect new and gently used stuffed animals and distribute them to emergency organizations, children’s services, hospitals, and homeless shelters who then give them to children in traumatic situations. Having something soft to hold can soothe children who are hurt or afraid.”

“So,” said Loki slowly, “we’ll be turning a thoughtless joke into something that actually helps people.”

“Very small, very innocent people.” Bruce took his hand and pulled him toward the door. They passed the bag of cats on their way to the pool entrance, and Loki was struck by the difference Bruce’s suggestion had made. Instead of seeing a bag of carelessness and cruelty, he imagined each cat comforting a distressed child. There was something magical about the transformation.

Filled with hope and awe, Loki entered the water.

***

Loki hadn’t quite known what to expect when Bruce pulled him up to the roof of their apartment building, but it certainly hadn’t been a metal fire pit ringed by a cooler, a cardboard box, a cloth shopping bag, and some blankets. He couldn’t mask his dismay. “We’re camping on the roof?”

“Of course not.” Bruce motioned him to a blanket and began trying to start a fire.

“It’s Christmas Eve. I thought we were going to watch movies. And eat popcorn. Inside.”

“We can do that later.” Bruce seemed to be constructing some sort of elaborate tunnel with the twigs in the fire pit. Only the newspaper he had brought burned.

“Right, why would we want to snuggle on our nice warm couch when we can huddle around a can of burning garbage on the roof?”

Bruce frowned and burned more paper. “This usually works…” Loki gave an impatient wave and the fire roared to life. Bruce grinned at him. “Thanks, Loki.”

Loki shrugged.

“I wanted to surprise you with this on Winter Solstice, but I had trouble getting everything together. I know it’s late, but I hope it’s okay.”

“Wait,” said Loki, feeling uneasy. “What are we doing?”

“We’re celebrating Yuletide. Happy Yuletide!”

“Bruce, I’m going to need alcohol for this.”

“You can have some now.” He fished a bottle and some plastic stemware from the cooler.

“What is that?” Loki leaned toward him as he opened the bottle.

Bruce beamed. “Mead. I also brought Belgian ale, but mead is traditional, isn’t it?” He handed Loki a glass of mead and opened the cardboard box. “And here’s our Yule log.” He displayed it for Loki’s inspection.

Loki caressed the bark. “Birch,” he said softly.

“I looked up the symbolism,” said Bruce, rather eagerly. He seemed quite pleased with himself. “Birch, for new beginnings.”

Loki’s mouth ached as he drank a large, sweet swallow of mead. “It also represents fertility.”

Bruce laughed. “Obviously, that doesn’t apply to us.”

Loki bit his tongue. A god’s secrets were best doled out over time.

“Help me put it on the fire?”

“Traditionally, the master of the hearth--” He blinked at Bruce, suddenly realizing the significance of the question. “It’s really your apartment.”

“It’s _our_ apartment now. I was thinking, after we take down the Christmas decorations, we should do some redecorating. You should pick out some things—make the apartment look more like you. It’s ours, and it should look like we both live there.”

Loki grabbed his scientist and kissed him roughly. “I love you,” he said, coming up for air. “And I love that you said that to me while holding a big piece of wood.”

Bruce laughed and, together, they added the log to the fire pit, stirring embers into the darkening sky.

“Yeah,” said Bruce as they settled onto the blankets to watch the fire burn, “I read it’s bad luck to buy the log. You’re supposed to either harvest it from your land or receive it as a gift. So I asked Tony for a piece of birch. He thought I was weird, but he’s been enjoying saying he gave me wood for Christmas.”

Loki snorted.

Bruce sat up suddenly. “Shit! I almost forgot the sacrifices.” He fussed with some zippers on the cooler and brought out a bag. After digging through the bag for a moment, he gave two frosted animal crackers to Loki. “So, I guess we’re supposed to sacrifice a goat and a boar, but what about a giraffe and a hippo? Will those do?”

Loki stared at Bruce for a long, silent moment. “They’ll do.”

“Oh, good. Because it’s really all about symbolis-- Wait! Shouldn’t we feed those to the fire?”

Loki bit the head off the other cookie. “Your ancients would have offered these sacrifices to us. Gods don’t generally make sacrifices to themselves.”

“Right. That makes sense. You’re not offended are you?”

“No. These are great sacrifices. They have sprinkles.” He grabbed the bag and devoured a few more sacrificial animal crackers. He cocked his head at Bruce, who was watching him eat. Loki waved a green cookie at Bruce. “I hereby declare you the honorary god of patience, and offer you this otter.”

“I think that’s an alligator.”

“Whatever.” Loki tipped the bag into his mouth.

“Hey, Loki, don’t fill up on sacrifices. I brought a Yule feast.”

Loki scowled at him. “You don’t eat boar. Or even ham.”

Bruce handed him a package of links. “No. But soy sausage is vegetarian. I thought we could roast them over the fire. I brought skewers.”

Loki tried to imagine Odin’s reaction to such a suggestion. He nodded, delighted.

“I guess we should offer our regrets and wishes before cooking, though.” Bruce handed two index cards and a pen to Loki.

“What’s this for?”

Somewhat crestfallen, Bruce said, “Blasted internet. I knew I should have asked Thor--”

“Screw Thor!” Loki snarled. He reined himself in because Bruce had drawn back. “This isn’t Asgard. This is Midgard. And this is our Yuletide. However we want to celebrate it is right.” He nuzzled against Bruce’s hand as it stroked his face. “Now,” he said after a short sigh, “what do I do with these cards?”

“On one card, you write whatever regrets you want to give to the darkness. On the other, you write your wishes for the coming year. We’ll burn both of them in the Yule fire.”

“And the smoke will carry our intentions to Asgard,” said Loki in a hushed voice, rubbing his arms.

Bruce shrugged. “If that’s what you choose to believe.” He refilled Loki’s empty glass.

Loki contemplated the flames for a moment, then filled out his index cards. He smiled as Bruce looked up from finishing his. “I’ll go first,” said Loki. “I regret nothing. Nothing! Absolutely nothing. Fuck you, Allfather!” He laughed at himself.

Bruce stared at him with an expression of somber fear. “I thought these were supposed to be private. I thought we were burning them. I didn’t think we were reading them.”

“Well…I read mine. So, now you have to read yours.”

“I don’t want to read mine,” said Bruce.

Bruce’s secretiveness startled and infuriated him. “You’re the one who’s always saying we should be open with each other. What are you hiding? What—did you say some even more terrible things about me behind my back? Or is it something else? Something worse? How dare you, Robert Bruce Banner! How dare you--”

Grim-faced, Bruce handed Loki his regret, the index card folded neatly in thirds.

Loki’s hackles fell into place as he read aloud, “I regret every moment I passed without Loki.”

Bruce winced and hid his face behind his clasped hands. “I thought these were private. Between us and the universe. I’m sure I have other regrets--that was the only one that came to me.” He exhaled. “I know it’s corny. It’s even cornier when you read it out loud.”

“Does corny mean heart-meltingly sweet?”

“No.”

“Then it isn’t corny.” Loki clutched the card to his chest and couldn’t say anything for a moment. “What does the other one say?”

Bruce gave it to him with a sigh.

Loki unfolded it carefully. “I wish for more wishes and more days with Loki.” Loki grinned. He waved his own card in Bruce’s face.

Bruce took it and frowned at the runes. “I can’t read that.”

Loki snatched it from his hands. “It says, ‘I wish for more wishes and Yule with Bruce every year.”

“God of lies. It says you wish for more wishes, some Prada slippers, a Canadian television station, a new army, and a dancing bear named Watson.”

Loki frowned. “What would I do with Prada slippers?” He shook his head. “Look.” He leaned forward, displaying the card. “See? That’s your name in runes. It looks similar to your name in English, doesn’t it?”

Bruce nodded.

Utterly pleased with himself, Loki sat back with their cards. “We both wished for more wishes!”

“It really is the thinking man’s first wish,” said Bruce.

Loki fed his cards to the flames. “I don’t regret anything because—all of the things I’ve done—somehow they led me here.” He handed Bruce’s cards to him and watched the scientist partake in a ritual that had nothing to do with science. Loki sighed happily. “You love me.”

Bruce watched him for a long moment. “I love you,” he confirmed finally, then turned his gaze to the flames.

“What about our presents?” said Loki. “Did you bring them?”

Bruce laughed. “Yes. Do you want to open them now?”

“Now is always the best time for presents.”

Bruce pulled the packages out of the cloth shopping bag. He gave two to Loki and kept one for himself. Loki already had his first one opened while Bruce was still fussing with his ribbon. “A Human Rights Campaign shirt,” said Loki softly. Bruce had introduced him to the concept of gay pride. In Midgard, in the city he had once hoped to vanquish, he was able to be himself. Loki stroked the letters that read, ‘love conquers hate.’

“You liked mine so much, I thought you should have your own. In black, of course—and ecofriendly.”

“I love it!” Loki snuggled close to Bruce and kissed him.

“Open the other one,” Bruce told him.

Loki ripped off the bow and stuck it on Bruce’s head, then tore into the package. “Ice skates!” he laughed.

“So now you don’t have to complain about your feet touching the—what was it? ‘Common feet of unwashed thousands?’ I think that’s what you were shouting at the rental counter.”

“The only common feet I like touching are yours.”

“Thanks, Loki.”

Loki hugged him. “So, this means we can go ice skating as much as I want?”

“It is free in Bryant Park right now.”

“You still haven’t opened yours.”

Loki watched Bruce carefully peel apart the tape. “It’s not a bomb, Bruce. It’s a present.”

Finally, Bruce revealed-- “Boxer briefs. In green and grey…. I can either be in the army or prison. That’s sexy. And very practical. Thank you, Loki.”

Loki scowled. “They’re magical underwear.” When Bruce stared in bewilderment, Loki  
explained. “I know you’re kind of shy. You have no reason to be, but I can understand feeling that way. Whenever you shift from Hulk to you, you’re nude. And I hate to think of you somewhere off with the Avengers, somewhere unfamiliar—maybe by yourself, disoriented and vulnerable. I experimented with some different spells, and I can’t do much about the disoriented or vulnerable parts. But I spelled this underwear to grow and shrink with you, so at least you won’t be nude. I thought that might make you feel a little better.”

Bruce’s eyes shimmered in the firelight. He blinked and swallowed, then whispered, “Loki, that’s the nicest, most thoughtful present anyone has ever given me.”

Loki felt as if he could out-glow the fire. He all but purred as Bruce pulled him close and began to devour his mouth. “Of course,” said Loki, drawing back, “we can still play army and prison.”

“Good.” Bruce grinned, leaning in for a peck. “Those are my favorite reindeer games.”

Loki arched back. “I thought I was your favorite Reindeer Games.”

“You’re my favorite everything. Hey, I almost forgot--” Bruce began to pull something from his pocket, then stopped, frowning. “No, that’s going to be all wrong isn’t it? I can’t believe I screwed this up so badly. What was the significance of Yuletide in Asgard? How did you celebrate it?”

“The point was to praise Odin. It was a day of tributes to Odin, mandatory feasting, games of strength. Basically, sucking up, getting a stomachache, and watching Thor win everything. I hated it.”

“Oh,” said Bruce, in the sympathetic singsong Loki loved, “poor Loki. Here, it meant welcoming the return of the sun. Winter solstice is the shortest day of the year, the longest night. But it marks a turning point. Each day after that gains more light, until summer arrives.” He grinned. “I thought this Beatles song might work as a Yuletide carol.”

Loki closed his eyes as Bruce inserted buds into his ears with sensual strokes of each lobe. A sweet little song with notes cheerful as gilt-edged pink clouds filled his head. He opened his eyes to find Bruce stoking the fire, raising embers into the night while the song promised, “ _Here comes the sun…_ ”

When the song was over, Loki gave the earbuds to Bruce. He wrinkled his brow. “What was the definition of corny exactly?”

“It means whoever says it gets tickled.” He pounced and was all over Loki in one yoga-limber heartbeat. Loki enjoyed the assault and endured it until he was breathless. He lay, partway on blanket and partway on concrete, with Bruce on top of him. Bruce smoothed back Loki’s hair. “I didn’t realize you hated Yuletide. I should have asked.”

“I love our Yuletide,” said Loki. He grinned up at Bruce. “Our first Yuletide.”

Bruce gave an amused snort and kissed Loki’s lips. “Happy Yuletide, Loki.”

“Happy Yuletide, Bruce,” said Loki and pulled Bruce into his mouth, the world behind his closed eyelids full of sunlight and song.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The organizations mentioned in this story, Human Rights Campaign and SAFE, are real. I am not affiliated with them, but I admire them and believe Loki and Bruce would, too.


	3. Loki's Fresh Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's worldview begins to shift following a new development in his and Bruce's relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the original version of this story in 2012, when many states in the U.S. were still not allowing gay people to marry. Happily, that has changed.

  


Bruce enjoyed seeing the city at night from Tony’s balcony, but his eyes kept wandering back to the glass, to the modern, sparsely furnished sitting area where Pepper chatted with Loki. He startled as Tony blocked his view. “Your boyfriend’s safe in there with Pepper. You don’t need to guard him all the time.”

“I’m not guarding him. I just can’t help looking at him.” He felt embarrassed suddenly and turned to rest his forearms on the ledge facing the city.

Tony edged closer, ice clinking in his glass. “He’s come a long way. You’ve been really good for him.”

Bruce worried the single drink had gone to his head. He couldn’t help himself. He unraveled like a cheap rug. “Every day there’s something new with him. It’s like watching a lotus unfold one petal at a time. He’s just---” He shook his head. “I don’t even know how to explain.”

Tony leaned his back against the ledge. “He seems a little off tonight, though. What’s wrong with him? He looks like he’s at funeral. You two have a fight or something?”

Bruce heaved a great sigh. “It’s about a chicken.”

“What?”

“Loki’s obsessed with chickens.”

Tony flattened his lips and nodded. “Okay. Why?”

“I have no idea. He loves this show called “Robot Chicken,” but that isn’t actually about chickens, so really, I have no idea.” Bruce ran his fingers through his hair. He felt bad because he could see Tony was making a sincere and strenuous effort not to laugh. “Anyway, he’s been collecting chickens. Little figurines and stuff.” He sighed. “I used to have such a cool urban Zen thing going on with the apartment, and now it looks like my grandmother’s kitchen.”

Tony hid a grin behind his hand. “Here a chicken there a chicken. Got it.”

“So, today I took him to the farmer’s market with me, and they had this petting zoo for the kids. Loki’s a big kid at heart, so the petting zoo drew him in like a black hole. And they had these chickens there with—have you seen these before? They have long silky feathers all over their legs.” He demonstrated, brushing his fingers free of tumbler down his other hand. “It’s kind of like those Budweiser horses.”

“I haven’t seen those chickens but I can see what you’re getting at.”

“I mean, for chickens, they’re actually very attractive.” He caught Loki through the window again and felt vaguely ill. “Of course, he wanted one. He charmed this woman---”

“Wait.” Tony’s face had turned serious. “He’s using magic on people?”

“No. He Lokis them. He’s figured out he can make women fawn all over him and give him discounts and free stuff if he smiles just so and tells them how honored they are to be in his magnificent presence. It’s sorta like what you do but without any money.”

Tony raised his brows at that and took a long sip of his scotch.

Bruce continued. “So he Lokied this woman into giving him this fluffy white chicken, and I told him he couldn’t have it. We ended up having a noisy spat all over the farmer’s market.” He stared down at his empty glass. “And in grand Loki style he went from furious to tearful in a matter of minutes--telling me I don’t really love him, and I’m a puny human so I can’t understand his needs, and I won’t really commit to him—everything he could yank out of his hat, really. So I ended up looking like a complete asshole.”

“All of that over a chicken?”

Bruce groaned a little. “He really wants that chicken, but there’s more to it, I think. He was talking about children the other day. He read some article online about couples having pets before they have children. I’ve never loved anyone like I love Loki, but I’m not ready for children.”

“He wants a family,” said Tony softly and shook his head. “Yikes.”

Bruce chuckled. “He wants all kinds of things. He found an old song on my iPod and keeps playing it over the speakers. That ‘Book of Love’ cover by Magnetic Fields. The last line says ‘you should give me wedding rings.’ I feel like he’s trying to tell me something.”

“Yeah, like it’s time to end this thing,” said Stark.

“No,” Bruce frowned. “I want it, too. I’ve never wanted anything more. Sometimes, when I look at him, my heart just breaks wide open, and I can’t feel anything but how much I love him.” He pulled a ring box out of his pocket and showed it to Tony, who raised his brows and nodded.

“You are serious. That center strip is?”

“Emeralds. Yeah, green is meaningful to both of us, and it should look great with his complexion.” He closed the box and slipped it back into his pocket. He looked up to find Tony grinning at him. “What?”

“Sometimes I forget you’re gay. The complexion bit. I never consider something like that.” He swirled the ice in his drink. “I just pick out whatever’s big and shiny.”

“Oh, that’s how I pick out cocks.”

Tony snorted his drink and coughed for a moment. “Oh, fuck. I’ve missed you.” He cleared his throat. “So, okay. When is all of this going down?”

“I planned asking him in Central Park today, but he got so upset about that chicken.” He shrugged. “But I’m thinking a small ceremony with family and friends, something intimate.” He glanced sideways at Stark and laughed. “You must think we’ve become so domestic.”

Tony shrugged. “It’s nice.” He scratched his chin. “Since I’m your best friend that makes me the best man, right?”

Bruce smiled at him. “I haven’t even asked him yet. But yeah, you’re on the list.”

“You don’t think he’ll say no, do you? I mean, all of these hints and stuff?”

“You never know with Loki.” Bruce sighed. “He is the god of mischief, after all.” His gaze turned, inevitably, to the trickster behind the glass. “He’s probably in there right now telling Pepper what a horrible boyfriend I am for not letting him have that chicken.”

“She knows you’re not a horrible boyfriend.”

“Really? I’m pretty sure she’s on Team Loki.”

“Yeah, she might take his side. And, really, look at him. Poor bastard. That has to hurt, you know, being a god and all and having to ask permission to get a pet chicken.” Tony was suddenly overcome by a fit of laughter. “A chicken,” he wheezed and curled up again. He sobered as he seemed to realize Bruce wasn’t partaking in the mirth. “I’m sorry,” he managed.

Bruce shrugged. “No, it’s funny. It’s just that I know what it means to him. And I hate telling him no.”

Tony stepped in front of his view. “Why couldn’t he have that chicken, anyway? Don’t people like you have one of those urban farm things on your roof or something?”

“People like me?”

“You know what I mean. All into that organic lifestyle and whatever.”

“I guess we’re fairly progressive, but our apartment building isn’t. The only thing on the roof is a roof. We don’t have any place to put a chicken coop.”

Tony said nothing for a moment. He just shook his drink as he stared at Bruce. Then he looked at Loki. Taking a drink, his gaze shifted to Bruce again. “You do now. I’ll make it happen tomorrow.”

***

Loki sat cross-legged in front of their chicken coop. Bruce bent to kiss the top of Loki’s head and then knelt beside him. Loki’s lap was full of fluffy white chicken. Bruce petted the chicken’s back a little awkwardly.

“Fuck, you need a chicken petting lesson,” said Loki, pointing to the chicken’s head. “These little holes are her ears. She loves it if you pet her like this.” He caressed down her neck, starting under her ears. The chicken bent her neck into his touch.

Bruce copied him and grinned when the chicken nuzzled his hand. “I didn’t realize she would be so affectionate.”

“She’s wonderful,” Loki said blissfully. “She’s the most wonderful chicken in the world.”

Bruce stroked Loki’s neck much as he had the chicken’s, with similar results. “Have you named her?”

Loki held his neck to the side, inviting Bruce to stroke it more. “Daenerys,” he sighed.

Stopping in mid stroke, Bruce fought back his laughter. “Are you serious?”

Loki scowled at him. “It would have been Tyrion, of course, but she’s female.”

“Oh, of course. What was I thinking?”

“I don’t know.” Loki’s gaze focused entirely on his chicken, and he petted her lovingly. “Sometimes you’re very strange. I try to forgive you, since you can’t help being human.”

Loki ran hot; Loki ran cold. This was relatively neutral and seemed as good a time as any. When Loki put Daenerys back in her coop and rose to latch the door, Bruce remained kneeling and caught his hand. Loki, who always wanted people to kneel before him, suddenly seemed confused by the symbolism of kneeling and crouched before Bruce with concern in his eyes. “Is something wrong?” he asked, sliding his hands down Bruce’s arms.

“You know that Magnetic Fields song you keep playing?”

“Yes.” A hint of defensiveness slipped into his voice.

“You love it when I give you things, so---” He showed the rings to Loki. For a moment, Loki just stared at him. The next instant, Loki’s hand was full of Bruce’s other 'other guy', and Bruce’s mouth was full of Loki’s tongue. They had each other’s clothes off in a few heartbeats.

After a long, intense outdoor lovefest, Bruce flipped Loki onto his back. He brushed the debris from Loki’s chest and kissed his nipples, which looked like they might be sore. Then he kneaded Loki’s flat belly for a minute and kissed up the inside of his thigh. “I love you,” he whispered. “I fucking love you.”

“I love you more,” Loki replied with an unexpected gentleness that made Bruce’s legs feel weak.

He pulled Loki into his arms.

Loki sighed blissfully. “Yes, by the way.”

“What?”

“In answer to your earlier question. The answer is, very definitely, yes.”

***

Bruce wanted to fuck again in the shower, but Loki was sore. He couldn’t stop himself from kissing Loki, however. Loki stood quietly while Bruce washed him free of grit. Steam billowed around them.

“I have to ask you something,” Bruce said suddenly. “What’s the deal with you and chickens?”

Loki’s eyes, with his dark hair pasted against his skin, seemed even larger than normal. “Chickens are the first animals to greet the sunrise. They announce the end of darkness and are heralds of the light. They promise that every day is a fresh start.” He looked away bashfully. “I need that promise, maybe more than most people.”

Blinking away tears, Bruce pulled him close. “Loki,” he said so softly the falling water nearly drowned it out. “Every time I think I can’t love you more, you prove me wrong.” They kissed for a long time. When they pulled apart, Bruce found he had another question. “What does this chicken symbolism have to do with your love of “Robot Chicken?”

Loki looked him askance. “Nothing. “Robot Chicken” is just fucking hilarious.”

***

Loki played with his coffee cup as Bruce loaded the French press. “Our marriage won’t be legal everywhere. Isn’t that fucked up? Shouldn’t it be recognized by every state?”

“Someday I imagine it will be. But for now, it’s legal here, and that’s what’s important.”

Loki spun his cup with his index finger in a way that was beginning to irritate Bruce, who really needed some coffee as proof against his trickster. “What if we’re somewhere else and you get hurt? I won’t be able to be with you at the hospital.”

Bruce’s heart melted. “I’m not going to get hurt.”

“What if we move to a state that doesn’t recognize our marriage and something happens to you? I won’t be able to inherit anything without a large tax because I’m not your spouse. I don’t have a job, an income. So, not only will I be devastated, I’ll lose our apartment. And then what will happen to Daenerys and me? We’ll be homeless. I’ll have to do magic tricks on the streets with the buskers.”

“We’re not going to move to a state that won’t recognize our marriage.”

“But what if we did?”

“Thor will never let you go homeless.”

“Thor,” Loki scowled.

“He loves you,” said Bruce. “And besides, I’m sure Tony will look after you, too. He’s told me as much.

Distress still shone in Loki’s eyes. “What about all of the people without a Tony? What happens to them?”

“What did you say?”

“All of the other gay people in states where they can’t marry—all of those people who don’t have a billionaire superhero to help them. What happens to them?”

He blinked at Loki in amazement. “I don’t know,” he said softly. He tested this new development with scientific curiosity. “You’re a god, Loki. What does any of this matter to you, anyway?”

“Ultimately, I’m a gay man living in the United States, and if I wasn’t fortunate enough to live in New York or one of the other states where gay marriage is legal, I wouldn’t be able to marry the man I love.”

“And what about all of the gay people in states where it isn’t legal?”

“They’re just like me, but they can’t marry their lovers.”

“Oh, Loki,” said Bruce. He pulled the sorcerer tight and devoured his mouth. After a few minutes, he withdrew, sighing. “You should check on Daenerys. She probably needs her water changed and some food.”

After Loki left, Bruce called Tony. “I have to tell someone what Loki just did.”

“He used the bathroom by himself?”

“That’s not funny. Okay, maybe it’s a little funny.” Bruce took a breath. “He’s empathizing with other people.”

“He empathizes with you, doesn’t he? I mean, he loves you. The way he looks at you, it’s pretty obvious.”

“That’s true, but now he’s empathizing with complete strangers.”

Tony was silent for a moment. “He’s learning compassion.” He gave an impressed snort. “Your methods work, Bruce. Thor was right to release him into your care so you could show him how you contain the Hulk. We all became kind of skeptical when you started fucking, but--- Hey it worked.”

“The falling in love and the fucking weren’t part of the program. They just happened.”

“You’re right. You tainted the experiment. It could just be a case of magical cock.”

***

Bruce sat on the couch with Loki’s head in his lap. “You carry tension in your stomach,” he said as he massaged Loki’s belly, his hand undulating under Loki’s gray tee-shirt. “What’s bothering you, baby?”

Loki sighed. “Everything.” His face looked as tense as his stomach felt.

“I don’t know how to help with everything. Can you give me a little more information?”

“It’s all so overwhelming.” He turned his face to the side, staring outward, his cheek pressed against Bruce’s thigh. He was quiet for a long moment. Only the blinking of his long lashes told Bruce he was still awake. “Did you know that there are these places where they keep hundreds of chickens piled up on top of each other in these cages so small that the chickens can’t even turn around? And they cut off the chickens’ beaks so they won’t damage themselves because they’re stressed?”

Bruce stroked his lover’s hair. “That’s why we don’t eat chickens and why we only buy free range eggs, so we’re not a part of that system.”

Loki turned to look at him. “But it’s still happening.”

“I know.”

“And I saw this commercial---”

“We have a DVR, what are you doing watching commercials?”

“Sometimes I like the commercials. They’re like these snapshots of American culture.”

“I disagree, but go on.”

Loki frowned up at him. “This one was good. It was about these animals that had been abandoned or abused—and there are so many of them! They don’t have homes or anyone to love them.”

“Loki,” Bruce said as gently as he could. “I know how sad that is, but we can’t get any more pets right now.”

“I know, and there are too many for us to adopt anyway. There are so many…. And there are children, too. Little starving children.” He sat up. “Do you know about HIV—and malaria?”

“Baby, I’ve treated HIV and malaria.”

“Oh, yes.” His head sank back to Bruce’s lap. “I forget some of the places you’ve lived, some of the things you’ve done. Even when you’re not Hulking about you’re sort of heroic, aren’t you?” He sighed and nuzzled into Bruce’s groin.

Bruce’s fingers slid around Loki’s stomach in little spirals.

“There’s just so much sadness. And so much cruelty. What’s worse is that the cruelty so often seems directed at those least able to defend themselves.” He rose up again. “All of this is going on while I sit here in this apartment safe and healthy and happy.”

“You don’t seem very happy.”

That earned him a baleful glare. “Really, Bruce. You could at least try to take me seriously.”

“I’m sorry. Go on.”

Loki frowned. “It’s just--there’s suffering and injustice everywhere.”

He fingered Loki’s bellybutton, wanting to give it a kiss. “There’s always been suffering and injustice, baby. Why do you think you’re starting to notice it now?”

Loki took a thoughtful breath. “I always felt so…empty. All I could think about was what I wanted or what I didn’t have.” He paused. “It’s like having a terrible wound, and it’s all you can think about. But then it’s healed, and you can focus on other things. I guess that’s what happening.”

“My beautiful lotus blossom.” Bruce ran the pad of his thumb across Loki’s lower lip. “My beautiful Loki.”

“But how do we fix everything?”

“I don’t know that we can fix everything.”

“I want to do something. I feel so restless. I need to do something. I need to help.”

He cupped Loki’s face. The sincere blue-green eyes looking back at him made his heart ache with love and desire. “You want to do good,” he said a little huskily.

“I have to,” said Loki. “I can’t explain it but--- I have to.”

Pensive, Bruce tucked Loki’s hair behind his ear. If Loki yearned to make a positive impact on the world, Bruce was determined to do everything in his power to help him. But what could Loki do? And then the answer hit him. It seemed so obvious, as if it had been there all along. “Let me see if I can arrange for you to come with me the next time we have a mission.”

***

Bruce sat on one of Tony’s trendy chairs, watching the others and wondering why this was going so badly.

“I say we should give him a chance,” said Thor.

“No surprise,” said Clint. “Of course his brother and his lover support him.”

“He really wants to help,” said Bruce. “He’s so upset by not being able to do something good that it’s killing him. He’s sincere. He needs this.”

Steve sighed, arms crossed over his chest. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t really care what he needs.”

Natasha leaned forward suddenly. “He wants to clear the red from his ledger.”

“What?” said Bruce.

“A conversation Loki and I had once. You say he’s changed. Now he needs to make up for his past.” Her voice grew soft. “It’s an overwhelming need.” She sat back in her chair with a deep sigh. “I say we do it. Everyone deserves a second chance.” She flashed a meaningful look at Clint.

Clint’s eyes dropped from Natasha to the floor. He nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

Tony turned an unusually grave face at Bruce. “You do realize that if we do this and he betrays us---”

“I can handle him,” said Bruce quickly. “I have before.”

“I can, too,” said Thor.

Steve shook his head. “Great. So we’ll have two Loki watchers on our team. You guys won’t be distracted or anything.”

“Bruce and Thor.” Concern roughened Tony’s voice. “You two do understand that if something happens and you aren’t able to neutralize him, we will have to. Using all necessary force.”

“I understand,” said Bruce. He didn’t like the idea of any harm coming to his Loki, but he understood that this was the only way to get Tony’s approval. Besides, he knew it wouldn’t come to that; he had faith in Loki.

To Bruce’s surprise, Thor hesitated. The big man shifted his weight in his chair. He glanced over at Bruce. “He’s really changed?” he asked in something close to a whisper. Bruce nodded. Thor sighed. “Yes. Whatever must be done should be done.”

“All right,” said Tony. “Then I’m good with bringing Loki on board. That leaves you, Steve.”

Steve cast a disapproving look at Bruce. “This is a knuckle-headed idea, and there’s no way I’m getting behind it.”

“That’s five to one in favor,” said Tony. “Loki’s one of us.”

“But I’m against it,” said Steve.

Tony shrugged. “Well, that’s democracy.”

***

Bruce found Loki on the roof with Daenerys. The sorcerer sat beside the chicken coop with his head pillowed on his drawn up knees. Bruce knelt beside him. Loki remained focused on the pecking hen. His face pensive. Bruce rubbed a fist up between Loki’s shoulder blades.

“I love to watch her eat,” said Loki in a quiet voice. “The way her head sort of bounces from grain to grain. It calms something restless inside me.”

“I’m glad you enjoy her so much.” He shoved his hand beneath Loki’s hair to massage the base of his skull. Loki sighed and melted onto Bruce’s lap. His hot breath misted Bruce’s zipped cock.

“Your touch is even better than watching Daenerys,” Loki murmured.

Bruce grinned. “I’m glad to hear that. Listen, Loki...”

Loki moaned. Then he took a little breath and said with a touch of wonderment, “Your penis is right there, isn’t it?”

“Loki.” He paused for air as Loki’s teeth ground around his clothed cock. “You’re in. Loki, did you hear me?”

Loki snapped upright, grinning. “Really?”

“Congratulations, baby.”

***

“So,” said Tony. “That’s the—wait—how many times have we saved New York City now?”

“I don’t know. Four maybe? That was four.” Bruce was distracted. He loved Loki’s helm, but it looked somewhat ridiculous in the bar. He felt a flush of pride, however, watching Loki chat amiably with Natasha and Thor while Steve and Clint played pool. It was as if it had always been this way.

Tony pushed against him. “And now, Loki’s eating an olive. Will he eat another one? Oh, I think he is! What will he do next?”

“I love watching him eat olives.” Bruce laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Tony frowned at Bruce’s glass. “You always take yours neat, don’t you? What have you got against ice?” Bruce shrugged. Tony swirled the ice in his drink thoughtfully. “I thought he might hang with you the entire time, but he worked with the team. He did really well. I was surprised to see him help Steve out. I had worried he wouldn’t work well with people he didn’t like, and it’s obvious doesn’t care much for Steve.”

“I think the feeling’s mutual. I don’t think Steve cares much for me either. Remember, he’s from an era where people like Loki and me weren’t widely accepted.”

“Norse gods and Hulks?”

Bruce snorted and drank.

“Hey, Clint won.” Tony craned his neck. “Are you playing him?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Tony sighed. “You can Loki watch at home. We just saved New York City from Citizen Scorpomax and his army of interdimensional electric slugs. This is the part where you hang out with your friends.”

“Um, yeah.” Bruce stood as Steve drifted to the table where Loki and Natasha were sitting and Thor was standing. Steve sat next to Loki and began talking to him.

As Bruce walked to the table, a waitress pranced up to check on their drinks. To Bruce’s amazement, Steve bought Loki a drink and threw an arm around his shoulders. “We’re brothers in arms.” He glanced up at Bruce. “You want anything?”

“No thanks. I’m good. I usually have just one.”

“Hulk,” said Loki, by way of explanation. “But I make up for him.” He was on his fourth martini.

Bruce grinned. “Right. Hulk. And somebody has to help you back to the apartment.”

“That reminds me,” said Steve, turning to look at Bruce. “Where’s my invitation to this wedding?”

***

Loki sat with the side of his head pressed against the cool granite of their breakfast bar. “I think I’m skipping jogging this morning.”

Bruce sat a glass of water and two ibuprofen in front of him. He took advantage of Loki’s unusually calm state to do some wedding planning. “I’ve been thinking, we don’t really need gifts.” He waited for Loki to object, but Loki sipped his water in silence. “So, in lieu of gifts, what if we ask our guests to donate to one of our favorite charities.”

Loki had sunk back to the bar again. He looked up at Bruce. “How will they know which ones are our favorites?”

“We’ll give them a list in our invitations.”

Loki pulled a pen and pad toward him and prepared to write.

“Not in runes, Loki. I have to be able to read it.”

Loki glared at him. Then he sighed at the paper. “Lambda Legal. Definitely.”

Bruce smiled. “Greenpeace?”

Loki wrote it down. He looked over at Bruce. “ASPCA?”

Bruce nodded. “What about Doctors Without Borders?”

“Okay.” Loki added it to the list.

“Any more?” He rounded the bar to stand next to Loki.

“Farm Sanctuary?”

“What’s that?”

Loki played with the pen. “They care for animals rescued from factory farms.”

Bruce grinned at him. “They have chickens don’t they?”

He all but growled, “They have lots of animals.” When Bruce said nothing, Loki sighed. “And chickens.”

“It sounds like it needs to go on our list, then.” As Loki wrote, Bruce wrapped his arms around his future husband. Nuzzling Loki’s neck, he whispered, “I think I’ll skip jogging, too. We can stay here and snuggle instead.”

Loki smirked and hugged him back. "You always say the right thing."

The End

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although the original series continues, I'm going to end this teen-rated version here. Trying to convert the chapter-stories was just too daunting. I hope you've enjoyed these!


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